


Introduction to the Society

by Carol_Molliniere



Category: Soul Eater, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted robbery, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carol_Molliniere/pseuds/Carol_Molliniere
Summary: This is an introduction to the world of Victorian London, where meisters, weapons, kishin eggs, and witches always liven up the nighttime. Another thing that makes the city stir is the Society for Witches and Sorcerers, and here are the stories of the people that live here.Basically a collection of some of my old Soul Eater AU stories.





	1. The Soho Pub

**Author's Note:**

> I am assured this fanfic has some sort of an audience, so I'm posting it here for people to enjoy. Or rather, to show as an introduction to my Soul Eater + The Glass Scientists AU. Note that a lot of these may be subject to change when I post the actual fanfiction of the AU.
> 
> This first chapter features a sickle and the spirit of London at night.
> 
> If you guys liked it, please leave some feedback!

Night fell upon London.

The gas lamps came to life under the steady gaze of the lamplighters, and the wind breathed a cold gust onto the streets of the city. At this gust, soot mice scurried to their homes in the sewers, and people walking by began to cover themselves up with their coats. The full moon above them shone brightly, as if promising the pedestrians a way home.

It was on this cold night that a figure stood on the roof of a Soho pub, watching the patrons of said pub come and go, sometimes doing the latter drunk. At the sight of them the figure's eyes would gleam, and he would flash a smile.

“What are we doing here?”

The figure looked up from the door to the bar, and down to the weapon in his hand – a sickle.

“Watching,” the figure said. “But God, what I wouldn't do for a drink. Or something hilarious.”

A sigh. “Edward, concentrate. You can get a drink when we're done.”

The figure stood up, letting his cloak billow in the wind. “Tch.” He frowned. “For all we know, it could show up later, or not–”

He cut himself off, and looked back down to the pub door. Another cloaked person came up to the pub, and the figure caught a glint of metal under the other person's cloak. Then the cloaked person walked into the pub.

The figure wielding the sickle smiled, wider than before.

“That him?”

“That him.” He stepped onto the edge of the roof. “Let's go.”

He leaped down onto the ground, stood up again, and turned around to enter the pub.

When he entered the pub, the bartender looked up from filling a mug with beer, and waved with a grin. “Ah, Mr. Edward Hyde! Back for the usual, I take it?”

“But of course,” the figure, known as Hyde, said as he tipped his hat. “A little absinthe and a good brawl always make my night!”

“Oh-ho, feeling feisty tonight,” the bartender said. “I'm afraid you won't be seeing much of a fight around this hour, though. Place could use a little more noise.”

Hyde turned to look at the various people inside the pub. Aside from the occasional peal of laughter, there was nothing there to indicate that a fight would brew...other than the still-cloaked person who was now sitting in the corner. Hyde blinked, and then smirked.

“Oh, good sir, when I'm around, there's always more noise.” As the bartender handed him a glass of absinthe, Hyde spun the sickle in his hand around. He placed it down onto the counter, then grabbed the glass and drank a bit of it.

“What do you think you're doing, Edward?!” At the sound of that voice, the bartender's eyes bugged out.

Hyde wiped the liquor from his lips. “What I do best.”

Leaving the sickle on the counter, under the stare of the bartender, Hyde walked over to the cloaked person, who eyed him with glowing purple eyes. Instead of feeling uneasy, however, as the nearby patrons felt, Hyde only smiled.

“Before you say anything, I know why you're here,” he told the cloaked person. “Where humans go, evil follows – or so some might say. But I'm going to let you know...I'm not going to let you surpass me as the evil one in these parts!” Hyde put a hand to his chest. “For I am the hidden monster that every human keeps inside! I am the spirit of London at–”

“Dear God, please shut up,” the cloaked person said, his purple eyes flashing dangerously. He stood up, and placed a hand into his cloak. Hyde took a step back, though it was more of adjusting his footing than being cautious.

The cloaked man then grew – until his head nearly reached the roof, causing the other patrons in the pub to watch and call out in horror. Hyde swept his cape over his shoulder, and put up a fighting stance.

“If you want to beat me to devouring all these human souls, then go ahead and try,” the cloaked man said, pulling his hand from inside his cloak and revealing a clawed gauntlet.

“Who said I wanted to devour them?” Hyde said, taking off his hat and putting it down on a nearby table. “I just want to beat you up!”

“Then  _ come at me _ !” the cloaked man challenged, his voice suddenly booming with a legion of many other voices.

“Everybody out of here at once!” the sickle yelled, and though the voice was coming from it, the patrons wasted no time in doing so while the bartender ducked behind the counter.

The cloaked man swiped at Hyde with the gauntlet, but Hyde jumped into the air and flipped over before hitting his opponent on the head with his heel. He leaped back before the cloaked man could do anything else, and landed right beside the counter. The cloaked man curled his gauntlet-wearing hand into a fist, and swung it down hard in Hyde's direction. But Hyde had grabbed the sickle from the counter, and blocked the blow.

Impressively, the sickle held, and Hyde slid out on the wooden floor before the giant hand could crush him. He got onto one foot, and raised the sickle once more.

“You have a plan, Hyde? For once?” the sickle asked.

“Of course not,” Hyde boasted. “But what I do know is that large things like these are hellishly slow.”

As he said this, the cloaked man pulled his hand back, and then thrust it forward to strike his opponent. But true to Hyde's word, it was slow, and Hyde dodged the blow once again before running up on the cloaked man's arm. The cloaked man swung his arm back, trying to shake Hyde off, but Hyde leaped into the air and threw his sickle-wielding arm back, before striking the finishing blow through the cloaked man's neck.

The sickle cleaved through the large neck, and all was silent before the cloaked man's body was overtaken by a red glow. Hyde landed on the floor as the body vanished, leaving nothing behind but a floating red orb. He looked up at it, then wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve.

“All yours, love,” Hyde said, and then he threw the sickle up in the air. It glowed for a moment, before glowing into a different shape. The glow faded as two human feet hit the ground, revealing a young lady wearing a cook's apron. She stood up straight, and then turned towards the floating red orb, before plucking it gingerly with two hands from the air.

The bartender peeped out from behind the counter to see Hyde pick up his hat from the floor, while the young lady turned towards him. “We really ought to stop fighting in pubs,” she said. “Half the pubs in London will be shut down because you kept leading the kishin eggs to them.”

“Rachel, when I want a drink, I want a drink,” Hyde said, patting the dust off the hat. “Besides, drinking helps me fight better.” He put the hat on. “Are you going to take that soul or not?”

Seeing that the red orb – the cloaked man's soul – was still in her hands, Rachel raised it to her mouth, before frowning. “Don't look,” she said to Hyde, and turned around again. The bartender heard a slurping, and then some chewing, before a gulping sound; then Rachel looked back and saw the bartender there.

“Uh, Edward?” She pointed at him, and Hyde looked up before walking over to the bartender. Hyde dropped something on the counter – a card holding an unusual crest.

“All repairs will be seen to by the Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” he explained. “I'd say no charge – but we need the money.” Then he clapped some money onto the counter as well. “And that was for the absinthe. Let's go, Rachel.”

Rachel nodded, and walked out the door, with Hyde following behind her. The bartender blinked, and then looked down at the card that Hyde had left.

What was the Society for Witches and Sorcerers?


	2. Sparring Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lanyon and Jekyll get some practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just what the chapter summary says: Lanyon and Jekyll are getting a bit of practice in the ways of fighting.
> 
> I would be a bit more creative with my notes, but this is an old fanfic and I don't really have much to say about it.

“A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body.”

A chuckle. “You say that thing all the damn time. It's bad enough our teachers kept saying it.”

“If you say so.” Metal glinted in the light of the window. “You could say our teachers from the Death Weapon Meister Academy were a tad bit eccentric.”

“I'll say.” The second person blinked, and then released a deep breath. “Are you ready, Henry?”

The sword he was holding shone in the sun again. “As ready as I'll ever be, Robert.”

He adjusted his position so that he could hold the sword more comfortably. Then he closed his eyes.

The two people standing in front of the pair looked to each other. The younger of the two smirked. “Looks like Dr. Lanyon is more excited than usual for our sparring match.”

The older man smiled, in a jolly mood himself. “Let's give it our all then, Archer!”

With that, a glow overtook the younger man, and he transformed into a different shape before the glow vanished – and he was now a clockwork gun.

Robert Lanyon kept his eyes closed for a little while longer, before feeling his very core – his soul – connect with his partner's own.

Invisible strings seemed to attach themselves to his limbs, and he opened his eyes to look down at the sword.

“Now just relax,” the sword said. “I don't want to accidentally hurt you while doing this.”

“You won't hurt me, Jekyll,” Lanyon told him. “Think of it as us sharing a dance, and you're only taking the lead.”

“Except you're not a respectable lady,” Henry Jekyll joked.

Lanyon snorted, looking up at their opponents. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lanyon rushed forward, holding the sword back. The older man with the clockwork gun calmly raised it, and the gears turned in the gun as he began firing.

Lanyon felt the strings suddenly tug, and he found himself effortlessly blocking and dodging the glowing bullets coming out of the gun. The last bullet he swiped at and hit using the sword, and it was sent crashing near the older man's feet.

“Is that the best you've got, Mr. Bird?” Lanyon asked.

Bird smiled wider. “Why, Doctor, I'm just getting started!”

He lowered the gun, but only a little, and snapped his fingers. Bursting through the windows came a great number of thick vines, and with a wave of his hand, Bird sent them rushing towards Lanyon.

“Damn,” Lanyon said before jumping up into the air. The vines covered the floor, and his limbs suddenly moved of their own accord so that he was in a position ready to stab something. Gravity pulled him back down, and Lanyon stabbed the topmost vine, spearing it and countless others. He landed on the ground, before raising the sword once more and slicing through the vines surrounding him.

“With all these vines surrounding us, it'll be impossible to cut them all!” Jekyll said, with added theatricality. Lanyon couldn't help smiling, and adjusted his hold on the sword.

“That just means we need to get to...”

The two of them spoke in unison, as Lanyon caught a glimpse of Bird from a gap in the wall of vines.

“...The source!”

By his own volition, Lanyon swung the sword through some vines. But that only revealed more vines, which grew towards him, ready to end this match. He growled. “For goodness' sakes!” he exclaimed, feeling himself jump onto one vine, then another, before making a large leap, and he raised his arms to slice through the wall of vines.

When he did, though, Bird was waiting for him – with the clockwork gun cranked up to the highest setting.

Lanyon had only a second to curse, while he felt his arms move to block the blow with the sword.

Both he and Jekyll were blown back by the shot, and they landed in the midst of the vines, which began to grow onto them. Lanyon's eyes turned to his weapon, and he reached out to it. But the sword seemed to grow further, as Bird parted the wall of vines, before turning the gears of the gun once more.

Bird stepped over Lanyon, and moved to point the gun at him–

–but Lanyon's hand finally gained purchase, and he swung as hard as he could, slicing through the vines holding it and the air between the floor and Bird's neck.

The threads pulled taut at just the right moment, stopping the blade an inch from Bird's skin. Everyone remained silent like that for a while, Lanyon's pants filling the air.

The clockwork gun glowed, and then transformed back into Archer, who put his hands on his hips. He sighed. “That was pretty reckless of you, Doctor,” he commented. “Still, I suppose that would help in a real fight.”

“Well, it would seem so,” Lanyon said as the vines shrank back out the windows, releasing him. He propped himself up with the sword, and then exhaled. “But I should thank you for helping Jekyll and I practice our fighting.”

Bird smiled, even as Archer coolly looked away. “No problem!” Bird said. “Anything for the honorable founders of the Society!”

“You two gave us quite the thrill,” Jekyll said, transforming back into his own human form: a charming man wearing a fine, crisp suit. “Sometimes I wonder why you don't become a meister, Mr. Bird.”

“But that would mean hunting my own kind,” Bird tried to laugh, “and besides, I would rather stay here and tend to the plants. They need me more than the city does, apparently!”

Jekyll's smile looked rather fixed, and Archer raised his eyebrows in concern. Lanyon, however, just dusted off his waistcoat.

“Well, this was indeed a bit of fun, but I'm afraid I must take my leave,” Lanyon said. He took out a pocket watch, and looked down at it. “Do enjoy yourselves, good sirs.”

He then waved a hand at them, before taking his coat and hat off a chair and walking out a room.

“The doctor sure doesn't work around the Society as much as you do, Jekyll,” Archer said.

Jekyll looked to him. “Don't be mistaken; Lanyon works just as hard to support the Society as I do. Just in very different ways.”

Bird came towards Jekyll. “You know, Dr. Lanyon's so quick on his feet. How on earth did Dr. Lanyon become so good at fighting?”

“Well, we studied hard at the Academy,” Jekyll explained. “Not to mention we  _ help _ each other sometimes...” Before he could continue, though, a bell hanging above the door rang, and the three of them looked up.

“That must be the tea. I'm famished!” Archer said, stretching. “Are you coming, Doctor?”

“Of course,” Jekyll said, flashing a smile too good to be true.


	3. A Rainy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would have been a normal night of stealing ends up completely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last old fanfic that I'm going to post here - this time concerning Griffin and Archer.
> 
> Yes, it's Archer. He's the demon weapon in this chapter, in case it won't be obvious later.
> 
> Again, there's not much I can say here, other than that this and the other chapters are actually old as heck, so there may be some changes made to the actual AU when I post it later on.

A bright light shone in the dim alley. The sudden flash of light caused Griffin to retreat behind a few crates, grasping the clasp of his cloak tightly. Someone else was there on this wet night – and that person was carrying an impossibly bright light. Where was that coming from? A lantern? No – lanterns did not glow so much.

He pressed himself against the wall of the alley as the footsteps carried over a nearby puddle. Griffin took a deep breath, and let the color slowly fade from his being, blending in with the wall behind him. Now he waited as a man began to walk by him, holding a curious light-emitting device in his hand. Griffin looked at it curiously for a second, before narrowing his eyes.

“Sticky Feet,” he whispered, and suddenly the passerby's feet stilled – as if they were fastened to the ground.

“What–?” the passerby said, trying to move himself from the ground, to no avail. Griffin stepped forward, into the rain that was soaking the passerby.

“Hand over all your possessions, now,” he said.

The man in front of Griffin looked around, holding the device up. Yet all he saw so far was empty air. “Who's there?” he asked.

It was with a hint of fright. Good.

Just as the man swung the device in his direction, Griffin let the colors bleed back into his being once again, so that he was now visible to the passerby. The latter's eyes widened considerably.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

“I said, hand over all your belongings, now!” Griffin said, holding up a hand. It began to glow with its own light, preparing to blast–

–but then the man's arm transformed into a cannon and shot him, launching him into the air.

Griffin landed on his back gracelessly, the cold feeling of a puddle washing over him. He groaned, and pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at the man. No, his eyes had not fooled him – that man's left arm was now a cannon.

“Are you a sorcerer?” the man asked. “You don't have any right to be stealing other people's possessions.”

Griffin stood up, shivering a little. He grit his teeth together, before saying, “Well, what's it to you? A man's got to survive, doesn't he? Now hand over your money, before I blast it off you!” He held up his hand again, feeling it pulsate with dangerous energy.

The man's response was to point his cannon arm right back at him. “If I could shoot you once, I could shoot you again,” he said. “Besides, I don't have anything on me but this lantern.” He held up the strange device. “Look, I know what it's like to steal from people. I grew up on the streets.”

“That thing sure doesn't look like something a poor brat could just pick up off the streets,” Griffin said, pointing at the device.

The man looked at it, and shrugged. “I had to make it myself,” he said. “But if you want what I have so badly, then you can take the mechanical lantern. I won't need it where I'm going, anyway.”

Mechanical lantern? Well, that was new. Griffin stepped forward eagerly, but then paused as a thought came to his mind.

“Wait...no possessions besides this? You're not going to kill yourself, are you?”

“What? No,” the other man said. “I just moved my things to a better home.” Then the man thought of something, and then transformed his cannon arm back into a human arm. “Maybe you should go there, too. If you're a sorcerer as broke as you say you are.”

“Go where?” Griffin asked.

“The Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” the man said. “I'm sure the founder would let someone like you in, if they let in a weapon like me. And I guess you've got nowhere else to go, right?”

Griffin blinked. A society for witches and sorcerers, here in London? That sounded too good to be true. Not that he missed the Witches' Realm, but to be among people who understood the magic flowing in his veins...

Then he frowned, crossing his arms. “You're not tricking me, are you?”

“I wouldn't be saying it if I were. I'm an honest man,” the man said.

“How's the rent?”

“Dr. Jekyll's not going to charge you for rent,” he said. “Or at least I think not. Last I checked, he didn't.” He shrugged again, and then smiled. “Are you in?”

Griffin looked at the man in front of him, and then down at his worn boots and wet clothes. He had been here hunting for money, and now...

“Well, I suppose you might pester me about it until I agree,” Griffin said. “Might as well see what the fuss is about.”

“Oh, that's good,” the man said. He reached in his coat for something, before finally he pulled out a small card, and gave it to Griffin. “Here's their card,” he said. “Actually, it's the only card I have, but I memorized the address.”

Griffin took the card from him, and read the name of the Society on it, before looking at the crest. Indeed, it looked too good to be true. But it seemed like it was worth a shot.

The rain suddenly cleared above them, and Griffin looked up. The clouds were still hovering in the sky, but the light of the moon above was slowly becoming obvious.

“Uh, sir?” the man asked, and Griffin looked back at him.

“Could you, um, free my feet?”


End file.
